Being Alive
by Athyna DaughterofPosiedon
Summary: A bunch of short stories based off of lines from the song Being Alive. Thirteen/Cameron


**A/N This came to me as a bunch of ideas while listening to the song "Being Alive" from Company**

**This is dedicated to my friend SMOGirl 13. You should read her stories; they're really good.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own House or the song Being Alive**

Some One to Hold You Too Close

I opened the bedroom door. I had had a long day at work, and I really just wanted to collapse on the bed and cry. We had gotten a new case yesterday, a little eight-year-old boy. He came in with stomach cramps, headaches, and partial lose of hearing. The cramps turned out to be caused by internal bleeding, something we hadn't caught soon enough. We had him on medication, but it was too late. He died this afternoon.

I walked over to the bed and sat down heavily. It hadn't been five minutes before the bed sagged, and Allison pulled me into a hug. I cried on her shoulder for an hour, and she sat there, rubbing my back, whispering comforting words into my ear.

Someone to Hurt You Too Deep

We were yelling. I don't know how it started. We were both cranky; House had been especially rotten, making rude jokes about us because we came in together this morning. I screamed something to do with her always marrying the wrong people, about how quickly she jumped into relationships without thinking. I knew I was going too far, but I couldn't make myself care. She retaliated, yelling something about how "at least she let people in, instead of blocking them out, and dealing with all her problems with alcohol, drugs, and one-night-stands. I turned and fled out the door, crying. I couldn't take it anymore.

Half an hour later, we were sitting on a bus stop bench, holding hands. We were both apologizing, and after a while we agreed that House was the worst boss anyone could have, and he needed a frog put in his bed.

To Ruin Your Sleep

I rolled over, and opened my eyes. I looked at the clock on my bedside table. After waiting a moment for the numbers to come into focus, I read the time. 1:27 am. I groaned, and rolled back over. I extended my arm to wrap it around Allison's waist, only to find her side of the bed empty. I propped myself up on my elbows and saw that the door was open and the hallway light was on. I pulled myself out of bed, and shuffled down the hallway. I dragged my feet into the kitchen, where I saw my girlfriend bending over and rummaging in the fridge. I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she stood up. "Did I wake you up?" she asked.

"Mmmmhmm," I replied.

"I'm sorry, I just wanted a snack," she told me, taking my hand and leading me into the living room. We plopped down on the couch, and she turned on the television.

Someone to Know You Too Well

I was sitting on the couch, head in hands. My eyes were red. We had lost another patient; this time, a forty-year-old woman. She had died of the alpha form of Thalassemia. She'd had the blood transfusion when she was a baby, but even that couldn't get rid of the disease forever.

I always do this—get upset when one of our patients dies. Maybe because it reminds me that anyone can die, including me. This one especially got me; a genetic disease, with no cure.

The door opened, and my girlfriend walked in. I raised my head, and Allison, upon seeing my tear-stained-face, veered off into the kitchen. She came back with two glasses and some alcohol. She didn't even need to ask.

We drank, and I cried myself dry.

Someone to Put You Through Hell

I hated her right now, I really did. Maybe that was because she was putting me through hell.

Allison—sorry, we're at work now, Dr. Cameron—had called me down to the clinic about an hour ago. She had taken me from the perfectly interesting case the team had gotten an hour ago, to the clinic. There had been a major bus crash, and they needed extra people to sew up ears, and the like. She'd handed me an enormous stack of files, and hurried off. I spent the next five hours giving stitches and pulling glass out of countless wounds. Then, on top of it, she'd given me all the files from the day—all three hundred—to sort and file.

I sat there, trying to think of what I could have possibly done wrong to deserve this punishment. Allison knows I hate busy work, so why didn't she get Taub to do this, or Kutner?

When I got home I gave her the cold shoulder. I refused to sit and watch TV, instead going straight to bed. When she crawled in next to me, however, and told me she was sorry for today, she had just really needed to be near me, I melted, and let her wrap an arm around my waist.

**A/N There is more to the song, but I am going to stop there, because I don't think it is turning out very well, and my creativity is starting to stop. If you think I should go on, I will, but only if enough of you guys review.**


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